


If you want, we could be runaways (running from any sight of love)

by funfanfin



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Raven is a runaway, Road Trip, Strangers to Lovers, bellamy and raven centric, ex-soldier!Bellamy, this is literally just a love letter to bellamy/raven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:25:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6964240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfanfin/pseuds/funfanfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun sank below the horizon, purples and oranges and reds bleeding into the sky. The warm breeze tasted like fire, smoky and leaving ash on their tongues. Raven stood at the edge of the canyon, the tips of her Vans flirting with the edge. Rogue strands of hair flicked at her face, framing her face. The sunset was reflected in her eyes, burning brightly like only dying daylight could. </p><p>She smirked at the canyon, like its glory would never come close to reaching her own. </p><p>Bellamy knew it never would. </p><p>Or:<br/>Bellamy needs a ride, Raven needs cash. They both need to get as far away from Virginia as possible. (inspired by the song Desperado by Rihanna)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“Enough is enough. You’re nineteen years old. Stop acting like a child and come home, little bird.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

“Come on, Raven, it’s time to stop pretending that you belong anywhere but Ark. Deep down you know it’s true. Ark will always be your home, and you know it. Just turn the car around and—”

“I’m never going back there, Nygel. You hear me? _Never_. So go ahead. Close my accounts. Send your dogs after me. Call the cops. Do whatever the hell you want, but just know this,” Raven glanced at the stack of manila folders sitting in the passenger seat, “One day, I’ll tell someone the truth about you and your ‘Reputable Foster Home’.”

With that, she hung up, not interested to hear any of the threats Nygel was sure to respond with. She had heard them all before.

Her nerves were on fire, adrenaline sparking up and down her veins, exploding in her heart. Fingers drummed up and down the Jeep’s steering wheel anxiously. Adjusting the rearview mirror, she made sure no cars were following her. None were. An elated, surprised laugh bubbled out of her, and she cranked the dial of the radio until the music was as loud as her excitement.

She was really doing this.

She was really running away.

* * *

 

“Sir. I’m going to need you to step out of the bathroom.”

Bellamy cursed under his breath. “Give me a minute, would you?”

“Sir, the plane is about to begin its descent and we need you to please take your seat, immediately.”

 _We?_ Why did airline stewardesses always seem to speak in the plural?

Wincing, he applied the last bit of concealer to his cheek. The bruises had faded to an ugly yellow, hints of purple still lingering in the middle and near the edges. His nose still hurt whenever he touched it. It started bleeding again twenty minutes ago, which was why he locked himself in the bathroom for so long in the first place.

He shrugged the plain US ARMY sweatshirt back on, tucking his dog tags beneath his one-size-too-small white undershirt. No matter what he wore, nothing seemed to fit like it should anymore. Normal clothes seemed to stick onto his body strangely, sticking out at weird angles or not clinging to where they needed to. Bellamy wasn’t sure if he would ever get used wearing anything that wasn’t his uniform.

“ _Sir._ If you do not open this door in the next—”

He unlocked the door and slid it open. “Okay, okay, I’m out. Happy?”

“Always.” The stewardess’ lips curled upward into a tight, practiced smile. He could have sworn he saw her pearly white’s glimmer like she was in a toothpaste commercial. “Now, if you could please take your seat.”

Bellamy made his way to his seat, climbing over not one, but two screaming kids, an old, sleeping man whose teeth were slipping out of his mouth, and an annoyed man with grease stains on his _Cool Story Babe, Go Make Me A Sandwich_ t-shirt fighting with his frustrated (in probably more ways than one) girlfriend.

Buckling his seat, Bellamy leaned his head back and sighed tiredly. It wasn’t that he _hated_ third-class. He just wanted to get off this plane as soon as possible.

Being in the air brought back too many memories. Bellamy closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He tried to focus on the screaming children instead of the sound of helicopters and yelled orders threatening to overcome his senses again.


	2. Oregon

Raven blinked her bleary eyes twice, but the neon orange fuel gauge indicator still stubbornly quivered over the E for Empty symbol.

Great. She hadn’t even made it out of Virginia yet.

She was out of gas, and out of options, as the perfectly primped bank teller had snootily told her when she had tried to withdraw money from her account. He had offered an airy apology, explaining, ‘ _We cannot reopen an account without direct authorization from the person who opened the account’._ He gave her two seconds to process the damning information before telling her she was holding up his line.

With more force than was probably necessary, she jerked the turn signal on, letting the car roll into the run down, hazy-looking gas station next to a small airport. The sound of jet engines reverberated above her, and she idly wondered how much a plane ticket to Washington would cost. It’s not like she could afford one anyways.

Pulling into the near-empty gas station, she noticed a few teenagers sitting on the curb in front of the worn 7-Eleven, smoking cigarettes. A man stood facing the payphone, a camouflage duffle bag sitting on the ground beside his feet. His leather jacket stretched over broad shoulders. Even though she couldn’t see his face, his body language _screamed_ tension in every sense of the word.

Raven didn’t really give him a second thought, guiding the Jeep into a parking stall. She was honestly just surprised to see a real, working payphone.

She rifled through the glovebox, under the seats, anywhere within reach of her long fingers as they strained to find any loose change.

Forty-three cents. Forty-three cents, that was all she found in her old, black Cherokee Jeep. Forty-three cents would barely even get her a gumball from the sticky gumball machine inside of the gas station. It definitely wouldn’t help her get out of the state.

Sighing, she cracked open the windows. The air outside of the car was as hot and humid as the air inside of it, she noticed with a frown. Air conditioning obviously wasn’t an option, though, so she pulled her long brown hair into a ponytail and wished that she had at least found enough change to buy a cold slurpee.

Fishing her phone out of her backpack, she scrolled through the five missed calls from Sinclair (her boss from the garage/resident father figure), the two from Abby (her spinal surgeon/resident mother figure), and the six worried text messages from Finn (her childhood best friend/cheating ex-boyfriend).

Not one call from Nygel. She wasn’t surprised.

She called Jasper (her best friend/partner-in-crime), clenching the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

* * *

Bellamy was supposed to catch another plane to Oregon, but he _barely_ made it off the first flight before having a panic attack and couldn’t exactly stomach the thought of suffering through another flight.

So here he was, at some gas station in the middle of Virginia, using a payphone older than him to try and call Octavia.

“O, would you just—O, please just _listen_ —O? _Octavia!”_

Bellamy cursed, slamming the payphone back onto the receiver, leaning his forehead onto the top of the payphone.

_You’re dead to me._

The words echoed through his mind, a sick reminder of a reality he wished he wasn’t living in. A reality where the sister he had raised since he was nine years old hated him, punched him, and disowned him all in one afternoon.

He thought of that day. With every punch Octavia had thrown, memories had flashed through him as strongly as the pain. Memories of him teaching her how to read on lazy Sunday afternoons. The two of them holding each other in their tiny closet, repeating myths in each other’s ears to try and block out the sound of their mother— _conducting_ —business to keep them warm and fed (thanks to a few government men who had threatened to accuse her of committing fraud on their federal aid forms if she did not ‘ _comply’_ to their requests).

After their mother had died, they had been on their own. They depended on each other for everything, and Bellamy naively thought that nothing would ever come between them.

But then reality set in, harsh and cold and biting. And Octavia disowned him, kicking him out of the small home they’d lived in since they were kids.

Shaky fingers came up to trace the dog tags resting under his shirt.

His sister had a right to hate him, to never want to see or speak to him ever again, he thought. After what happened, he deserved it.

 “Calm down, Jasper,” an annoyed voice said, interrupting his thoughts. Bellamy glanced over to see a girl, probably around twenty years old, sitting in a black Jeep and pressing a phone tightly to her ear.

“Because _I’m_ the one stuck in Virginia with no gas and no money, _not_ you. No. No way. I’m _never_ going back there, you know that. Of course I have a plan. The plan is to call Nygel and threaten her until she reopens my account.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

“She can’t get me arrested for that. How do you—” she sighed. “Fine. Then what am I supposed to do, huh? I can’t just sit here and wait for her to find me. Oh, she is? Like right now? No, don’t worry Jas, I know how much you like her. Just call me back when you can, okay?”

With that, she hung up, tapping the phone on the steering wheel a few times before scrolling through it again.

Bellamy’s army issue bag hung heavily over his shoulder. He played with the strap, weighing his options. It wasn’t like he had very many. Flying was out of the question. The owner of the small rental car service next to the airport took one look at his background check and vehemently refused to rent him a car. This was a horrible idea, but it was the only one he could think of, at the moment.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked up to the black Cherokee Jeep. He rapped the side of the door with his knuckles. The girl didn’t even look up from her phone, where it looked like she was typing out an extremely long message to someone.

“Did Nygel send you?” She asked flatly before he could even open his mouth.

“What? Uh, no. No, I don’t know who Nygel is.”

She finally looked up from her phone, her brown eyes studying him.

“Then what do you want?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier,” he said.

“And?” She eyed his bruised face, and he wished he had spent a little more time trying to cover up the bruises.

“And I—” he huffed. This was probably a waste of his time, but what could he lose? “Look, I need a ride, and it sounds like you need money.”

She looked at him, unimpressed. He leaned onto the open window of the car, lowering his voice.

“How desperate are you to get away from wherever you’re running from? From this Nygel person?”

Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, “How much money are we talkin’?”

He thought of the years and years he spent saving for Octavia’s college fund. It was supposed to be a surprise, for her 18th birthday. Instead he had spit it out harshly during their last fight as a desperate, selfish way to try and change her mind. She had slapped him, hard across the face, spitting _What makes you think I’d ever accept money from_ you _?!_ _What, did you think I’d be grateful?!_

“A thousand a day. I need to get to Oregon.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oregon? That’ll take seven full days of driving _at least_.”

“Are you interested or not?” He asked brashly.

He wasn’t used to not having to worry about money. It made him uncomfortable even _thinking_ about how much money was sitting in his bank account, and even after all these years, he _still_ felt like he had stolen it instead of earned it after years of sleepless nights and countless odd jobs.

The girl bit her lip, considering the offer.

“Yeah, I’m interested,” She said after a while, slowly, carefully.

Bellamy hesitated. “Seriously?”

She reached over and unlocked the passenger door, answering his question.

“Oregon is more than two thousand miles away from Nygel,” she said, grinning wolfishly. “Two thousand miles is far enough away from her for me.”

Bellamy stood frozen where he was, waiting for her to laugh in his face and take it all back.

“Seriously,” she insisted, not breaking eye contact. “Something tells me you’re as desperate to get to the other side of this country as I am. And for a thousand dollars a day? I’ll be the best damn chauffeur you could ever hope for.”

He readjusted his bag, not missing the way her eyes traveled down to the standard, black-lettered **Bellamy Blake** stitched onto the side of it. Bellamy held his breath, waiting to see if she’d recognize his name. It’d been in the news briefly, a few months ago when he came home.

She just smirked, looking him up and down.

“What do you say, Bellamy Blake? Ready for one hell of a road trip?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, these two will NOT LET ME LIVE. I really feel like Bellamy/Raven have so much potential, and I cry thinking about how much they could mean to each other. I'm not sure how big the bellamy/raven fandom is, so if you'd like to read more of this fic, please leave kudos or comments(!!!) to help me know if I should continue posting chapters. 
> 
> Also, let me know if anything sounds too OOC or anything, this is the first time I've written a Bellamy/Raven fic, I'd love to hear your thoughts (good or bad)


	3. ...or something poetic like that

After they had gotten a full tank of gas, plenty of snacks for the road, and settled the finer details of their deal, they got on the highway and began driving West.

The sun sank down toward the horizon, slowly bathing the world in a dusky gold. Raven pulled the sun visor down, wishing she had grabbed a pair of sunglasses from her duffle bag earlier.

Bellamy sat in the passenger seat, eyes trained on the road in front of him like he was the one driving instead of her.

Raven didn’t really know what to make of him. She figured he had been in the Army, if his bag was any indication. His brown hair wasn’t buzzed short, though. It was long, unruly dark curls falling into even darker eyes, suggesting he’d been home for a while.

Bellamy was all sharp lines. His jaw, his cheekbones, the scar on his upper lip. His cheeks were dusted with freckles, offering a soft and youthful contrast to his edges. It was…it was a good look, Raven had to admit.

He was probably a few years older than her, but he sighed like a tired, ancient man, one who had carried the world on his shoulders for too long.

 _…Or something poetic like that,_ Raven mused. Finn probably could’ve come up with a better description. It was kind of stupid how poetic and romantic Finn was, all things considered.

“What happened to your face?” She asked, about an hour into their trip.

He raised an eyebrow at her bluntness. The muscle in his jaw jumped.

“Bar fight,” he said flatly, through clenched teeth.

“Really.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why aren’t your knuckles bruised? Didn’t you fight back?”

“Fight back? No, I didn’t fight back.” He sighed, and she realized that was all the information he was going to give her. For now. His fingers reached out and grazed the metal raven hanging from the rearview mirror. “What kind of name is Raven, anyway?”

“My mom was kind of a hippie,” she explained, bitterly adding, “She said I was ‘ _born to fly_ ’.”

_Born to fly. Right._

 “In Greek mythology, ravens are—they’re, uh, they’re a symbol of good luck,” Bellamy said, voice colored with slight embarrassment, like someone like him shouldn’t know something like that.

She barked out a laugh. “You’re joking, right?”

“No, why would I—”

“It’s just—I mean, _good luck_? Really?”

“I think it fits.”

Eyebrows raised, she glanced over at him. “Really.”

“Well, yeah. What are the odds of me finding you at that random gas station? That you needed money and I needed a ride?”

She laughed again, but it was clipped. “That’s just a coincidence.”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Bellamy muttered under his breath. His impossibly dark eyes drifted back to the raven necklace, watching as it swayed back and forth lazily.

“There’s…there’s a diner off the next exit,” Raven said distractedly. “You hungry?”

**

Raven had been to the diner a few times when she was younger. Back when her mom actually _remembered_ she had a daughter (for a few months at a time, anyway). Back when Finn and her were inseparable.

It was a small, family-owned diner, straight out of a classic movie with its black and white checkered floors and cherry red polyester booths.

Raven put the car into park, hesitating before getting out. It wasn’t that she was self-conscious. It _wasn’t_. She just needed a minute, that was all.

Bellamy stepped out of the car. Leaning his arm on the top of the car, he stuck his head through the still-open car window. Light from the sunset filtered onto his skin, warm and golden.

“You comin’?” He asked, eyeing her.

“Yeah, just—just give me a second.”

Opening the door, she lifted her leg by the light-metal brace. It was the one good thing Wick had left her, before he quite literally disappeared out of her life without so much as even a goodbye after it was clear they wanted different things. 

She had practically redesigned the brace, though, and now she was actually getting to the point where sometimes she forgot it was even there. It was starting to feel less like an anchor, and more like a support frame.

Stepping out onto the pavement, she grabbed the door for support. Pain flared up her thigh, and she bit back a cry. The pain usually wasn’t too bad, but she hadn’t used her legs in several hours, and she was starting to wish she had stopped to stretch her legs at least once. She shut her eyes tightly, clenching her jaw.

“Hey,” Bellamy said softly, and she straightened immediately, remembering he was there. His eyes trailed down to the brace. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to help, but didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He opened his mouth, and she decided to answer his question before he could ask it.

“I got shot.” She shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her chest, leaning against the car to take some of the weight off her leg. “Can’t feel anything below my knee.”

She waited for the _‘I’m sorry’_ , for the look of pity and the sad, empty, sympathetic smile. It never came, though. He walked over to her, his shoes crunching the gravel beneath his feet, and crouched down, inspecting the brace.

“Did you make this?” He asked, awe in his voice.

She furrowed her brows. She wasn’t expecting him to say _that_ , of all things.

“Hell yeah I did,” She said, ignoring the warm pride bubbling inside of her. “A…a friend made the initial prototype, but it was crap, so I redesigned it. I’m still making adjustments but—it works.”

“It’s incredible. I have a few army buddies who could use something like this,” he said, standing up. He cocked his head towards the diner. “I’ll get us a table. Come in when you’re ready.”

Raven nodded. “Get a booth by the window.” When he looked at her questioningly, she added, “The booths have the best damn view of the sunset.”

An amused look crossed his face. “We’ll see about that.”

She stayed at the side of the Jeep, waiting for the pain to subside just a little more. She watched as Bellamy walked in and sat down at a booth, holding up two fingers to the waitress when she only brought one menu.

Watching him, she bit her lip.

He just _knew_. Knew that she didn’t need his help getting inside the diner, she just needed a few seconds until she could do it herself.

She caught his eye as he looked at her through the window. He nodded, and she nodded back.

Raven pushed herself off the car and walked towards the doors of the diner, the pain in her leg not nearly as noticeable as before. 

* * *

 

Bellamy watched as Raven kept sliding her thumb over a crease in the laminated menu. Was there a protocol for these kinds of situations? She knew he was paying, right?

“Order whatever you want,” Bellamy said gruffly, squirming in his seat a little. “Money—money isn’t an issue, so…order whatever you want.”

She lowered the menu to look at him. “What’d you do, rob a bank? Marry a rich old widow with a nasty cough?”

“Cute.” He deadpanned. “No, uh, I just had a bunch of money saved up.”

“And you’re blowing it all on a cross-country trip to Oregon? Why not rent a car? Why not just take a Greyhound? Or first-class?”

“Because I hate flying, I don’t want ride in a bus for two weeks, and no one wants to rent a car to someone who was dishonorably discharged from the military.”

Raven’s mouth dropped open. “ _Dishonorably dis—”_

“Story for another time, Raven.”

“Hold up—”

“Are y’all ready to order?” The waitress chirped, her bubblegum pink lips stretching into a smile.

Raven gave him a look that told him _This conversation is not over._ Bellamy cleared his throat, glancing up at the waitress. “Just a Roanoke Burger for me.”

The waitress scribbled on her notepad and turned to Raven.

“I’ll have the same thing.” She glanced at Bellamy and then back at the waitress. “And can we get two chocolate shakes?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart. I’ll have those out in a bit.” The waitress smiled sweetly, grabbing their menus.

After she left, Bellamy raised an eyebrow at her.

“Chocolate shakes?”

“You said get whatever I want,” She retorted. “You’ll thank me when you try them.”

* * *

When the food came, they both wolfed down their burgers in record time. Raven watched as Bellamy eyed the chocolate shake warily, like maybe Linda, their good-natured waitress, had secretly poisoned it.

She hid her grin behind her own shake as he tried it, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“What’d I tell you? It’s good, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good. I haven’t had a chocolate shake since I was a kid.”

Raven narrowed her eyes at him, stealing one of his fries and dipping it into her shake. “How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-three. You?”

“Nineteen.”

“So you’re not running away from home then?” He asked, voice casual and careful.

“That’s a story for another time, Blake,” she said, smirking. She waved a hand around. “You got this covered, right?”

He nodded.

She grabbed another one of his fries and slid out of the booth, using the table to push herself up.

“I saw some pamphlets by the door, I’m going to see if they have a map.”

They did have a map. They also had several pamphlets for different hotels and motels around the area. Her fingers hovered over them. Like it or not, they were probably going to have to stop for the night. Raven sighed, grabbing a few that looked cheap, but not sketchy.

When Bellamy had finished paying, they walked out to the Jeep. The sun had already set. The sky was a pale, lazy blue. A few stars dotted the sky.

As soon as they got in the Jeep, Raven cranked up the radio to a volume just high enough to make conversation uncomfortable. The pamphlets rested heavily on her thigh. She didn’t want to deal with the fact that they were going to have to stop and get a motel at some point. She just cranked up the music, and drove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have left kudos, and a special thank you to those who have left comments. It's so great to know there are others who love Bellamy/Raven as much as I do, I feel like they're severely overlooked and underrated. Hope you enjoy this chapter, as always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!!
> 
> Also, what?! They're gonna have to stop at a motel for the night?! (i'm a shameless trope lover, so get ready)
> 
> and btw, this is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.


	4. worry about yourself

They pulled into the Motel 6 around midnight. Its blue and red sign shone brightly on the side of the road, a modern day oasis for fatigued drivers, proclaiming _Vacancy_ in dazzling LED lights.

Stepping out of the Jeep, a crisp breeze welcomed them to the crowded parking lot, jostling their drive-drowsed minds back to sharp clarity.

Bellamy lingered by the car, eyeing Raven. She had a black duffle bag slung over one shoulder, the strap of her backpack resting over the other. The straps were digging into the smooth exposed skin of her shoulders, right where she had cut off the sleeves of her faded NASA t-shirt.

“I can carry your bag,” he offered gruffly.

She outright scoffed at him. “You can worry about yourself.”

It took him nearly ten seconds to recover. He should have expected such a response from her, from this girl with fire in her eyes and steel casing her bones.

_Worry about myself? How the hell am I supposed to do that?_

The door to the lobby area of the motel had a neon sign hanging in it, advertising Free Wifi and stinging their sensitive eyes.

At the front desk sat an older gentleman with a bushy mustache, his eyes narrowed in concentration at the crossword puzzle in front of him. A grey cat sat on the counter, flicking its tail lazily, watching the two of them approach with cool disinterest in its yellow-green eyes.

The man stood at the sound of their shuffling steps, eyes still trained on the crossword. His lips moved silently, mustache bobbing up and down as he mouthed words. Shaking his head, he sighed, erasing whatever he had written in the small printed boxes.

“What can I do for ya?” He asked, setting the newspaper down and rubbing exhaustion from his eyes.

Bellamy cleared his throat. “We need two rooms for the night.”

“No can do,” he replied matter-of-factly. “I only got one room left, and it’s a single.”

Raven leaned against the counter, making the cat bristle beside her. “What do you mean you ‘only have one room left, and it’s a single?”

“What I mean is, _I only got one room left, and it’s a single._ Take it or leave it, sweet cheeks.”

Raven breathed _“Sweet cheeks?!_ ” the same time Bellamy asked, “What level is it on?”

The manager glanced between the two of them, a thousand questions in his curious blue eyes.

“Ground level. First floor.”

“We’ll take it.” Fishing his debit card out of his wallet, Bellamy slid it over the counter. To his surprise, Raven didn’t argue.

It wasn’t a big deal, honestly. Bellamy would just sleep on the floor. He’d slept on worse, after all.

“Checkout is at noon,” the manager said, handing Bellamy the key card. The cold plastic rested heavily in his hand, sharp edges cutting into his palm.

Nodding, Bellamy grabbed his bags and glanced over at Raven. She pushed herself away from the counter, her jaw set.

“What are you waiting for, Blake?” She asked, ponytail swinging from side to side as she made her way towards the doors. Sparing a last glance at the motel manager, she said, “Twelve across is Sally Ride, by the way.”

The motel manager bent down quickly, scratching the letters into the row of boxes on his crossword. Letting out a low, appreciative whistle, he looked up at Bellamy.

“Hell of a woman you got there.”

“She’s not mine,” he said, but found himself nodding in agreement anyway. Grabbing the rest of his bags, he thanked the manager and headed after her.

**

The door took three swipes to unlock, the sharp beep loud in the quiet midnight air.

Raven muttered something beside him, the words muted by the sound of the door opening.

“What?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m not saying it again. It’s just—ground level means no stairs.” She kicked the door with her good leg, pushing past him with a one-shouldered shrug. “Stairs are the worst.”

Dropping her duffle bag on the bed, she whirled around to study the room. The wallpaper was a pale yellow, peeling at the edges. There was a chair, a small TV on top of a dresser, and a single bed.

“Home sweet home,” she said sarcastically, heading towards the bathroom. “I call the shower.”

Bellamy sighed, setting his stuff down on the chair. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she pulled her hair out of the tight ponytail it had been in. Her long, dark hair cascaded down to her shoulders, and he swallowed at the sight.

This girl was unlike anyone he had ever met before. She was unapologetically confident, sharp, and every conversation he had with her raised more questions than answers. Not for the first time, he couldn’t help but wonder about who she was, who she was running from.

She closed the bathroom door, and soon sound of the shower filled the quiet motel room. Bellamy rifled through his bag for his toothbrush and some fresh clothes to sleep in. Flicking on the lamps, he noticed the phone sitting on the nightstand.

He pulled the crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and picked up the phone. Glancing at the closed bathroom door, he dialed the number on it before he could talk himself out of it.

* * *

 

Raven dried herself off, pulling on a pair of clean underwear and throwing on an old NYU hoodie. The grey hoodie hung down to her bare upper thighs. Putting on pants was a pain, and she had gotten into the habit of just never wearing them to bed. If Bellamy had a problem with that…well, then it was _his_ problem.

Her brace sat outside the bathroom, safe from heat and steam.

Looking at herself in the foggy mirror, she used the high-pitched, wheezing hair dryer to dry her hair to a manageable state. She contemplated putting it back up, but her head ached from the long drive. She left it down.

Over the sound of her brushing her teeth, she heard muffled arguing outside the bathroom door. She quietly cracked the door open an inch, hearing what sounded like an _incredibly_ frustrated Bellamy arguing with someone on the phone.

“Please just put her on the phone,” he pleaded, and she could practically _hear_ the crease between his eyebrows. “Fine, _fine_. Just—just please make sure she’s doing okay? Yeah, I know. Trust me, I know. I just—I don’t know what else to do. No, it’s not your fault. Yeah. I’m sorry too. Thanks.”

She heard the phone _click_ back down onto the receiver and she carefully closed the door.

Grabbing all her stuff, she cleared her throat and walked out of the bathroom, leaving her brace by the door.

“Who was that on the phone?” She asked nonchalantly.

Bellamy looked up, his eyes trailing up her bare legs for a second before he blinked.

“A friend.” He cleared his throat, rifling through his bag for a towel. “How’s the water?”

She bit back a smirk.

“Water pressure sucks. I didn’t use all the hot water, so knock yourself out.”

He nodded, heading towards the bathroom, eyes decidedly looking everywhere _besides_ the small bed Raven was currently slipping into.  

Sighing, she leaned back onto the cool pillow. It was going to be a long night.

**

Raven would be lying if she said she didn’t sneak a glance at Bellamy when he stepped out of the bathroom after his shower.

She’d _definitely_ be lying if she said she didn’t like the way his hair was a curly wet mess, or the way the muscles in his back rippled when he pulled a threadbare shirt on.

Hooking up with a man she barely knew and had agreed to drive across the entire country was, arguably, a bad idea, though. So instead of focusing on the fact that she would be sharing a bed with him, she focused on the names and objectives of every lunar mission in history.

Bellamy grabbed the extra blanket from the dresser, shaking it out and spreading it on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Raven sat up.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to sleep.” He said, gesturing towards the blanket. “I thought that was obvious.”

A few seconds passed.

“On the floor. You’re going to sleep…on the floor. On the _disgusting_ Motel 6 floor that’s covered in _who knows what_.”

“Like I said, I thought that was obvious.”

“You’re an idiot,” she remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

She lifted the covers on the other side of the bed. “You stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine. Deal?”

He eyed the small bed. “It’s fine, Raven. I’ve slept on a lot worse.”

“Bellamy, you’re not sleeping on semen, snot, and shit covered floor, and then sharing a car with me. Got it?”

“Okay, okay,” he relented. Putting his arms up in a pacifying gesture, he said, “I won’t try anything, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes. “Relax.”

The bed was big enough for two people, but only just enough. She felt the bed dip down, felt his body heat beside her. She closed her eyes, listening to his breathing, waiting for it to even out.

It didn’t after ten minutes, and it didn’t after twenty.

She rolled over to face him. His dark eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling. He turned to look at her.

“Can’t sleep?” He asked, voice rumbling through the small space between them. He started shifting, moving to stand. “You’re uncomfortable right? I can—”

She reached out and grabbed his arm, pulling him back down. His skin burned under her fingertips. Carefully, he settled back down into the bed, closer than before since she still hadn’t let go of his arm.

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” she breathed, letting go of his arm, her fingertips grazing down his forearm. “If you were, you’d know. Trust me, you'd know.”

He let out a small puff of air through his nose, the closest thing to a laugh she’d heard from him.

Resting his head back on the pillow, he confessed, “I—I’m just new to this.”

“New to what? Sleeping with a stranger?" She raised an eyebrow. "I find that hard to believe.”

"That’s different," he said, huffing. 

“How?” She asked, just to be difficult. It was amusing, to see him like this, flustered and unsure instead of his usual unthreatened confidence.

His dark eyes burned into her, flicking down to her lips for the subtlest of seconds before returning to her eyes. The memory of his skin still lingered under her fingertips, and she found herself shifting closer impulsively.

Just like that, his confidence was back, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

“Are you usually a huge pain in the ass?”

“Depends," she replied, voice saccharine. "Are you usually so damn stubborn?"

“Depends," he echoed, a smile shaping his words. "Goodnight, Raven.”

She rolled over. 

“Whatever." 

** 

After nearly twenty minutes, his breathing finally evened out. Raven chanced a glance at him. His features were softened by sleep, pale blue light from the bright sign outside the window casting shadows on his face. A metal glint caught her eye, and she noticed he was wearing dog tags underneath his shirt. She remembered what he had said back at the diner, about how he had been dishonorably discharged. 

It should have scared her, or at the very least worried her, but it had the complete opposite effect. It _intrigued_  her.

There was something about him, something  _familiar_ in the way he carried himself recklessly, wearing a smirk like it was armor. She found herself wanting to explore the stars sprinkled across his cheeks, to trace the universe written in his clenched palms. 

It was too late for her to explore the vast expanse of space, she knew that. But there was something about him that rekindled a desire she had been forced to repress, a curiosity to reach out and touch the darkness, to uncover the radiance beneath it. 

Letting out a deep breath, she closed her eyes, falling into dreams of lost galaxies and forgotten worlds, and a dark-haired boy with a map of the cosmos painted on his skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are amazing. your comments have all been incredible, thank you to those who have taken the time to leave them and thank you to those who have left kudos! rellamy makes me emo
> 
> unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own.


	5. mugshot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mentions of prostitution, i've changed the tags but just be aware in case you don't wish to read. nothing explicit, nothing graphic, just mentions.

Bellamy woke to the sound of someone pounding on the motel door. The sound was blaring, aggressively echoing in his ears. It sounded like gunfire, guttural blows rippling through the door.

Heart thrashing in his chest, he jolted awake.

Raising his head, his eyes widened at the realization that Raven’s body was curled against his own, her back against his chest, one of his legs between her own. Her hoodie had ridden up sometime during the night, and his fingers were resting on the exposed skin of her hip.

There was another series of aggressive knocks on the door. Raven let out a soft, frustrated sigh, and he swallowed roughly.

Carefully, he extracted himself from her, trying not to focus on the realization that last night was the first night in months he hadn’t had any nightmares.

Shaking his head, he made his way to the door, cursing when he jammed his toe on the side of the chair.

“Who is it?” He asked, voice gruff from sleep.

“The name is Wallace,” the man said, words muffled through the closed door. “Cage Wallace. I just have a few questions for you this morning.”

Bellamy peered through the door’s peephole. It was a slimy looking man, hair slicked back with exaggerated confidence. There was a plain, manila folder in his hand.

Taking a deep breath, Bellamy unlocked the door, cracking it open just enough to see the man.

“Wonderful,” Wallace said, stepping forward like he wanted to enter the room. Shifting aside, Bellamy crossed his arms, blocking him. The man took a calculated step back. “I just have a few questions for you—”

“If this is some kind of survey—”

“Oh, I assure you, sir, it’s not a survey.” Cage Wallace bared his teeth, smiling like a shark. Pulling a pen from his pocket, he _clicked_ it, scribbling onto a small notepad. “Tell me, how long are you planning on staying at this—” he waved the pen around, “— _quaint_ establishment.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at him. A beat passed, Cage’s pen hovering over the lined paper expectantly.

“None of your business.”

“Right. Speaking of, are you here for business?” He tried to peer over his shoulder into the room. “Or _pleasure_?”

Bellamy thought of Raven’s lips curving into a sharp smirk. He thought of her smooth skin, the way her eyes had trailed over him last night, burning his skin without even touching it.

Clearing his throat, he repeated, “It’s none of your business.”

“Right,” Cage replied, skeptical. He pulled a photo from his folder and handed it over. “Tell me, have you seen this girl? She was last seen traveling through this part of Virginia.”

It was a black and white mugshot of Raven. A few years old, by the look of it, but it was undeniably her. She was holding a mugshot board, looking monumentally unimpressed. Bellamy kept his face impassive as he thumbed the picture.

_So you’re not running away from home then?_

_That’s a story for another time, Blake._

Swallowing, Bellamy shook his head.

“Not that I can remember,” he said.

“You sure about that? There’s a five-thousand-dollar reward out for her,” Cage paused, “in case that jogs your memory.”

“It doesn’t,” he replied flatly. “Why are you looking for her? Did she do something?”

“If I may use your own words,” Cage Wallace said with a sneer, “it’s none of your business.” He pulled out a small, white business card. “Here’s my name and number. And keep the photo. If you see her, don’t hesitate to call. Have a wonderful day.”

Bellamy watched, eyebrows furrowed, as the man walked away to knock aggressively on the next door.

He glanced at the business card.

**Cage Wallace**

**Mount Weather Corp.**

**Private Investigator**

Shutting the door, he locked it, checking the deadbolt twice. He made sure the curtains were closed, peering through them to see Cage speaking to the frazzled looking woman from the room next door.

“I can explain,” Raven said behind him, and he nearly jumped.

“Let me guess,” he turned to face her, flicking the mugshot picture onto the bed. “You’re escaping parole.”

“Not exactly,” she replied, not even glancing at the photo. “It’s a lot more interesting than that.”

Bellamy raised an eyebrow. “Of course it is. Fine. Explain.”

“Uh, okay. It started maybe four—five years ago?” She began, fingers twisting in the sheets. She looked more anxious than he had ever seen her, and he wondered if he should just tell her to forget about it. “Well, earlier than that, actually.”

Maybe he should just let her have her secrets. He had his own, after all.

“Mom died when I was eight,” she said tonelessly. “No other family, so they threw me in the system. I got kicked from foster home to foster home. They kept saying I was ‘gifted, but a handful’,” she rolled her eyes, “so they sent me to a home in the inner city, a place the kids call Ark. To Nygel’s.”

Bellamy recognized the name. “Nygel? The person you’re running from.”

“That’s the one. It wasn’t too bad, at first. I had Fi—I had a friend there. He…” she shook her head, clearing her throat. “Anyway, there were fifty-four of us at Ark. I started hanging out with the older group of kids there. They all had these plans to run away. I was new, and didn’t really understand why they wanted to run. I mean, we had food, clothes, books…” she let out a breath. “It wasn’t until later that I found out that when you got old enough, they forced you into the prostitution rings of the inner city. Nygel told them that they _had_ to do it, that it was the only way the home could afford food and medicine and education for the younger kids.”

Raven ran a hand over her face, exhaustion written in the dark lines beneath her eyes. Bellamy clenched his fists, anger flaring inside of him. He knew how corrupt the system could be first-hand, having spent a good two years trying to convince the state to let him become Octavia’s legal guardian when their mom died a few months shy of him turning eighteen.

It didn’t surprise him that Raven had been in the system. If anything, it made perfect sense. Her resilience, independence, hesitation to trust, all were products of growing up in a harsh, cutthroat environment.

He swallowed, asking, “Did…did they—Did you have to—”

“No,” she replied. “I didn’t have to—because of my leg—but even if I hadn’t gotten shot there’s no way in hell I was going to let them send me there.”

Bellamy nodded, relieved.

She continued. “Nygel knew I was good with numbers, so she put me in charge of her checkbooks instead. Doing taxes or whatever. I took one look at her records and realized she was using the foster home as a cover for laundering money.” She shrugged a shoulder at the questioning look on his face. “Let’s just say I’m more than ‘ _good_ ’ with numbers. I started collecting everything I could, taking pictures, copying data and receipts…that kind of stuff.

“I turned eighteen and had to move out, but made a deal with Nygel. I’d keep on handling her finances if she let me keep living there. I got a job at the garage shop down the street, working for Sinclair, saving money to run. Two days ago, she caught me uploading files to a flash drive. She shoved a knife in my face.”

“So you ran?” Bellamy interrupted, impatient.

“After I broke her nose.” She smirked, an unrepentant glint in her eyes. “I grabbed all the files I had, the flash drive…everything, _then_ I ran. She closed my accounts when I was halfway out of Virginia, which was where I met you.”

“Okay,” he said, wetting his lips, processing the information. “Actually, you know what? No, this is not okay.”

“You don’t get it, Bellamy. If I can expose her laundering business, I can expose her ties with the prostitution rings. I can save all of those kids— _my friends­—_ from having to live that life.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the police?” He asked, exasperated. Running a hand through his hair, he paced the room, nerves on end.

“The police?” She barked out a laugh. “Nygel has half the force working for her. I can’t trust the cops here. But I have a friend in Vegas, Jasper. He has a friend who says he can go through all of the data with me and figure out which cops are corrupt and which ones aren’t. Once we do that, we’ll send all the data to the good detectives and we’ll send it to the mayor and to—”

“Raven,” he shook his head,” this is _bad._ Do you realize how bad this is?”

“Yeah, I’m aware,” she stood up, gritting her teeth and leaning her weight on one leg. “I don’t care. I’m doing it anyway.”

“And I’m just supposed to believe that you’re telling the truth about all of this?” Bellamy questioned, stepping towards her. “That guy is looking for _you_ , Raven. He has _your mugshot_.”

“I got arrested when I was seventeen,” she admitted. “It wasn’t for anything serious. I mean, if you ask me, street racing isn’t even a real crime.”

“ _Street racing?!_ ”

“Oh, give me a break,” she retorted, eyeing the name on his camouflage bag. “Bellamy Blake? Dishonorably discharged? Yeah, I knew I’d heard your name somewhere before.” She paused, studying him. Bellamy resisted the urge to step back at the recognition in her eyes. Voice cold as ice, she demanded, “You’re that soldier who abandoned his post in Afghanistan, aren’t you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy warned, crowding her against the wall.

“Oh I think I do,” she challenged, raising her chin. “People died because you weren’t where you were supposed to be, didn’t they?”

“Don’t,” he growled, face inches from her own. Her back was against the pale yellow wall.

“There was one soldier that died, his face was all over the news for weeks. What was his name?”  She sneered. “ _Lincoln?”_

“I said, _don’t_.”

“Looks like we both have our own little tragic backstories,” she teased darkly, looking him up and down. “You already know mine. Care to share yours?”

Glancing down at her lips, he hesitated. He could tell her what happened, what _really_ happened. He could tell her the story the news chose not to share, the story that he swore he would never tell Octavia. But, he was lucky enough that Raven could even stand to look at him after she realized who he was. If he told her what _really_ happened, there was no knowing what she would think of him, and he found himself not wanting to risk it. 

"You already know everything there is to know," he lied, voice bitter. 

Raven mumbled something that sounded like  _I doubt that_ , but he ignored it, taking a few steps away from her.  

He cleared his throat, walking towards the window. Scanning the parking lot with careful eyes, he stated, “Cage left. We should get out of here before he decides to come back. If we're lucky, the manager didn't say anything to him."

“What's with you and luck,” she muttered, putting her brace on. "Because to be honest, it doesn't seem like you have much of it."

He ignored her, grabbing his stuff. Deep down, he wondered why he even cared about Cage finding them, why he had lied to him about never seeing Raven. Most of all, he wondered why she didn't seem to care that he was an ex-soldier hated by his own country.

If he were wiser, he would also ask himself why he was packing his bags to go risk life and limb to help a girl who had single-handedly declared war on an underground network of pimps and thieves.

Then again, he had nothing left to lose. Not anymore. 

**

Bags all loaded in the Jeep, they got into the car, casting tense glances around the parking lot.  

Raven hesitated before turning the keys in the ignition. Not meeting his eyes, she said, “You can back out, if you want. I can find another way—”

“You told me you could get me to Oregon,” he interrupted. “Has that changed?”

A beat passed.

“No.”

“Then you’re stuck with me until Oregon.”

A small smile crossed Raven’s face. She started the car, keys jangling.   

“In that case, next stop:  _Fabulous Las Vegas.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, as always i am overwhelmed by your support. Comments/kudos, even if you're just reading, I appreciate you all. Sorry this took so long, and sorry if it lowkey isn't that good lmao, I started a new job and haven't had much time to write and even less time to edit, so if there are any mistakes/OOCness, i take full blame.


	6. waiting game

The radio played lowly between them, muted under the sound of the warm rush of air filtering through the Jeep’s open windows. A tall blue sky towered over them, welcoming them across the state line to Tennessee.

Hours passed in the blink of an eye. It hardly surprised Raven. She felt more at home behind the wobbly steering wheel of this old car than anywhere else. She felt free when she drove; independent in a way she hadn’t really been able to feel outside of a car, not anymore.

Bellamy sat in the passenger seat, careless eyes watching the road disappearing beneath them. He hadn’t spoken, and she half-wondered if he was angry with her. Not like she cared either way.

Still, it was calm. Comfortable...like nothing could touch them here, here in this old Jeep that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and hot metal.

“Stop,” he muttered when she adjusted the rearview mirror for the hundredth time. “Cage isn’t following us.”

“You don’t know that,” she retorted, even though he was probably right. Worrying her lip, she debated her next words. “Back at the motel,” she began, curling her fingers over the steering wheel, “why did you lie to Cage?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, jaw set. “He just seems like the kind of guy who’s used to getting everything he wants.”

“But you don’t even know me,” she argued. It didn’t make _sense_. “Why not just collect the reward and forget about me?”

He hesitated. His reply sounded like a confession, quiet and deliberate.

“Something tells me you’re not that easy to forget.”

For once in her life, there was no sharp retort on her tongue, no witty reply slipping through her lips.

Bellamy cleared his throat, ruffling his hair. “Besides, we made a deal.”

Before she could respond, the Jeep made an ugly, jarring noise.

Raven frowned, shushing Bellamy when he asked _What the hell was that?_ and waiting to see if the noise would happen again.

It did. Loud and screeching, the engine whirled, struggling.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Raven threatened. “Don’t you _dare_ do this to me now, Rover.”

“Rover?”

She was about to retort _So what, I named my car?_ when thick black smoke spiraled out from the hood. The speed gauge quivered, declining to zero mph faster than Raven could let out a string of profanities in Spanish.

Guiding the Jeep to the emergency pull-off, she flicked her hazards on. Ignoring the pain searing up her thigh, she got out and yanked the hood of the car up.

A furrow in her brow, she waved the thick black smoke away, straining to see through it.

Bellamy had stepped out, taking an abrupt step to the side when the wind changed, blowing smoke in his direction.

“Raven, let’s just call a tow—”

“Oh _hell_ no. I have _never_ called a tow truck in my life, and I am _not_ about to start now.” She cocked her head to the back of the Jeep. “Grab my toolbox. It’s under the seat in the back.”

He gave her a look.

“Bellamy,” she half-threatened, half-pleaded.

At last he relented, setting the bright red toolbox with the name _R. Reyes_ scrawled on the handle on the ground beside her feet.

“Alright,” she breathed, eyeing the car’s interwoven components, creating a map of the engine in her mind. As the engine cooled, she craned over it, visually touching the wires and parts. “Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

The summer heat was sweltering. The long, narrow road behind and ahead of them stretched in the heat, waving like an ocean of asphalt.  

**

“Raven, it’s been hours. We should at least try to flag someone down and have them drive us to a motel for the night.”

“Do whatever the hell you want,” she bit out, her hands dark and slimy with grease. It was smeared across her forehead, stained on her shirt. “I’m going to stay here, and fix this.”

“Raven,” he reached out and grabbed her wrist gently. The tenderness of the action took her off guard, and she pulled away quickly. He sighed. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

She shook her head, blinking away unwanted and unexpected tears. The engine before her was blurring, the parts melting into each other with each blink.

“I have to,” she said, but the defeat had already manifested in the way her shoulders started to slump. “I have to fix this.”

The Jeep wasn’t just some car. It had been a gift from Sinclair, for her seventeenth birthday. He had left it in the parking lot of his auto garage, a bright red, ridiculously big bow sitting on top of it.

Sinclair had helped her fix it up. When he realized that Raven was worried that Nygel might find out and take the Jeep away from her, he had handed her a can of spray paint and a few decals.

 _This Jeep is yours, Raven,_ he told her. _Don’t be afraid to make it yours._

The next day, she added the raven decal on the side of it, grinning from ear to ear the entire time.

The Jeep was freedom and familiarity. It was the only thing she felt like she _really_ owned.

She couldn’t lose it.

She _had_ to fix it.

“Let’s go get something to eat and find somewhere to stay for the night,” Bellamy said, interrupting her thoughts. “Tomorrow we can come back and you can fix it.”

“Fine.” She brushed the tears away with the back of her hand, leaving grease on her cheekbones. She leaned up to pull the hood of the car down, her leg aching dully from standing for too long.

She faced the road, crossed her arms and waited. Squinting in the distance, she shook her head. There were no cars in sight.

“So?” She asked after nearly a minute had passed. “Where are all the cars we’re supposed to ‘flag down’?”

“The last car I saw drove through an hour ago,” he admitted, not meeting her eye. “It might be awhile till the next one comes.”

Raven stormed towards him, grabbing her toolbox and shoving it in the back of her Jeep in a flurry. Swinging her bag around her shoulders, she grabbed his duffle bag.

She threw it at his chest, and he caught it easily, the weight of it causing him to take a step back.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She walked along the edge of the road away from the Jeep, scattering gravel. With each step she took, the pain in her leg amplified to the point where she was grinding her teeth together to keep from crying out. She paused to take a breath. “You just said that no cars have passed on this road for a while. Which means either we sit here and wait for one to miraculously appear,” she closed her eyes, “or we walk to the nearest town.”

She thought of all the hours she wasted waiting. Waiting for her mother to come home, waiting for Finn to change, waiting for her leg to heal, waiting for someone to love her the way she wanted to be loved.

Her mother never came home, Finn never changed, her leg never healed, and she was convinced no one would love her the way she wanted to be loved.

“I don’t know about you,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear, “but I hate waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, sorry it took me so long to update and that this chapter is kinda short. I work at the hospital and they switched my shift so i work all day now and i'm so exhausted when i get home that writing is a challenge!! 
> 
> Thank you to all who have left kudos and A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO THOSE WHO LEAVE COMMENTS (!!!!). I'm planning on finishing this fic either way, but comments are SUCH A GREAT WAY to help me know that you guys are still reading and still interested in how this story plays out. ALSO THEY MEAN THE WORLD TO ME!!! 
> 
> next update will be longer and more stuff will happen, I promise <3


	7. greek goddess

The day had finally cooled, a sweet breeze dancing in the thick air. The sun was being swallowed by the horizon.

They had veered off the highway, walking onto a dirt road. Tall trees slouched overhead. Bellamy was surprised by the sense of peace this place had. He looked through the trees and thought he saw a firefly, winking at him in the distance.

He walked a few steps behind Raven, whose steps were slowing. The thought had crossed his mind to offer her a piggyback ride or to carry her bridal style, but he knew she would laugh in his face at the first suggestion and the second was too… _intimate_ to even suggest.

The dirt road—trail, rather—was narrowing. The trees were thinning.

They had finally reached a clearing, a cobblestone path leading them to a small cottage. The cottage was dreamlike in the hazy, golden sun. He could practically smell peach cobbler just looking at the Bed & Breakfast’s white shutters and vibrant flower beds.

Raven let out a sigh of relief, pausing to look at it (and to rest her leg, but Bellamy purposefully didn’t notice).

“This place can’t be real,” she said flatly. “It looks like it’s straight out of a damn fairytale.”

Bellamy snorted. “Come on, let’s see if they have rooms.”

“Oh, they’ll have rooms,” she raised an eyebrow at the place, gesturing. “Look at this place, they probably have talking forks and birds that do your laundry.”

They walked up the cobblestone path, leaving muddy shoeprints on the smooth stones.

The hot, humid air had left his shirt sticking to his skin. His dark, inky curls were plastered to his forehead.

He looked over at Raven. There was grease highlighting her cheekbones. It looked more like war paint than engine grease, making her features sharper than marble and twice as beautiful than any statue he had seen in the museums back home.

Even with the way her left leg dragged slightly behind her, she walked like the Greek goddesses he had grown up reading about. With natural confidence, earned confidence. She walked like the stars would rearrange themselves in the night sky just to tell stories of the tragedies she had transformed into successes.

She knocked on the endearing, wide wooden door.

It opened, revealing a shy looking girl with dark eyes and a sweet smile.

“Hi,” she said, polite. “Do you two need a room? We unfortunately don’t have any vacancy at the moment but—”

“Maya!” A voice called from behind her. “Are these our lovely newlyweds?”

Bellamy and Raven exchanged a look.

A tired but kind looking man opened the door wide.

“Please, come in,” he offered. “We were worried you two wouldn’t show up since we got the email about your recent decision to elope two weeks ago,” the man said, rushed, “but here you are! We’ve saved you the Newlywed Suite, it’s got a great view of the lake out back. If you wake up early enough, there are usually swans—”

“Hold on,” Raven interrupted. Bellamy expected her to clear up the man’s obvious misunderstanding, which is why his eyebrows raised when she instead asked, “Is that—do I smell peach cobbler?”

The girl, Maya, nodded, her curls bouncing eagerly.

“They just came out of the oven,” she confirmed. Giving a soft smile to her father, she added, “Mom’s recipe.”

Raven grabbed Bellamy’s hand, slipping her fingers in between his own and leaning into his side.

“We’re sorry for showing up unexpected like this,” she said, “our car broke down on the highway and both of our phones are dead.” Looking at Bellamy, she added, “We’ll only be staying for a night or two until we get the Jeep fixed.”

She squeezed Bellamy’s hand, prodding the back of his hand with her thumb three times.

 _Say something_.

Clearing his throat, he said, “We’re willing to pay for any inconvenience this has caused.”

Maya’s father shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just happy you’re here! The room’s been paid for through the end of the month. Maya, would you show our guests upstairs?”

The gentle girl nodded. “Follow me.”

She led the two inside, guiding them through a cottage so cozy Raven’s words echoed in his mind.

_It looks like it’s straight out of a damn fairytale._

Raven’s fingers were still intertwined with his, and she was brushing her thumb over the back of his hand mindlessly. They made their way up the stairs together, taking their time. As Raven maneuvered her sore leg up the stairs, Bellamy asked polite questions related to the myriad of family photos cascading down the wall.

The second floor was even cozier than the first, the rich smell of a wood stove caressing its way through the wide hallways.

“…dinner is typically served in the dining room, but breakfast can be served in bed…” Maya was saying, her soft voice a light melody that he couldn’t quite focus on, not with the way Raven’s long fingers rested easily between his own. “And this is your room,” she ended with a smile, her cheeks flushed and eyes not meeting their own.

“Thank you, Maya,” Bellamy said, earnest.

The door closed behind them.

“Wow,” Raven said, an amused smirk crossing her face. “Didn’t know you could make a girl blush like that.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring her and dropping his bag on the hardwood floor.

The room was clean, crisp like a summer morning. The king sized bed was decorated with soft white linens. Blankets that looked homemade were draped across the foot of the bed. There was a vanity in one corner, a tall, proud dresser in another, and a tucked away bathroom between them.

It wasn’t until he tried to step towards the window that he realized their hands were still joined.

He expected Raven to drop her hand from his quickly, but she simply pulled him forward to the window, fingers still stubbornly entwined with his own.

“Swans,” Raven pointed out, shaking her head in disbelief and breaking the tension in the air. “I’ve never stayed at a place like this, ever.”

Neither had he. He had never been able to afford a place like this in his life, or had a reason to save up for it.

Looking down at the pond, at the small, well-tended garden and dusky forest, Bellamy dropped Raven’s hand abruptly.

“What…what are we doing? You—we just _lied_ to that girl and her father. What if the real newlyweds show up? We have to pay for all of this, Raven. We can’t just—”

“Look, Bellamy,” she interrupted, “those newlyweds decided to pay for this nice room, then elope to who knows where for who knows how long. It’s been two weeks, they’re not going to just show up now. Besides, they already paid for the room. It’s just going to go to waste so we might as well—”

“If they find out—”

“They’re not going to find out.”

“This is illegal,” he argued weakly.

“And we’re the most law-abiding citizens in the country," she countered, dry.

“Cute.”

“Technically, we didn’t even lie to them. I never said we were the newlyweds. I told them the truth. Our car broke down, both of our phones are dead, and we need a place to stay for a night or two.”

Bellamy gave her a look.

She sighed. “What other choice do we have, Bellamy? Either we stay here for a night, go back and fix the Jeep in the morning, or we hitchhike in some sketchy car to some sketchy hotel, spend money we probably need for car parts on a room as big as a closet and on a cheap dinner and an even cheaper breakfast, and then walk all the way back to the Jeep in one-hundred-degree weather. Or,” she bit her lip, “we stay here for the night. In a room that’s already been paid for, with complimentary dinner and breakfast _in bed_ , and walk back to the Jeep tomorrow afternoon.”

Looking at the window, Bellamy caught Raven’s reflection. He could see the way she was leaning all of her weight on one leg. Her hand clenched and unclenched by her side, and she was no doubt digging small half-moons into her palm.

Her words had had an edge of desperation to them, and he had realized why.

They had walked nearly two miles from the Jeep before finding this Bed and Breakfast. If they were to leave, they’d have to walk those same two miles back to the highway, plus who knows how many more in order to find another place to stay.

She would never admit it, but it would be absolute hell for her to walk that far, especially after all of the walking they had already done.

“Fine,” he relented, catching her eye in the reflection on the window pane. “Just until the Jeep is fixed.”

**

After they had both showered the grease and heat from the day off, they got dressed and wandered downstairs. The teasing smell of peach cobbler had lured them out of their room into a perfectly set dining room.

“Can you believe people actually live here?” Raven marveled, fingering the literal definition of _fine china_ displayed on a hand carved mantle curled above the fireplace. “I could never live in a place like this.”

“Too cozy for you?”

“Too…perfect.” She furrowed her brows. “You don’t think Cage could’ve followed us here, do you?”

Bellamy stepped passed her, putting his hand on the small of her back for a ghost of a second. Standing next to her, he shook his head.

“If he had, we probably wouldn’t be standing here right now,” he raised his eyebrows, looking down at her.

Everything in this cottage seemed smaller, more intimate, Raven noticed. Even this, the way their shoulders brushed against each other, the way their bodies angled towards each other conspiratorially.

It was strange, seeing Bellamy so relaxed like this, his features at ease instead of at war. Her eyes were drawn to the small scar on his upper lip. She found herself wanting to trace the length of it, to ask him how he got it and to watch the corners of his lips stretch into a rare smile as he told her the story behind it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her hand to his cheek. Her thumb grazed his scar, brushing against his lip.

“How did you get this?” she asked, keeping her voice even, calm.

He grabbed her wrist reflexively, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and coming to rest on her pulse gently. The motion made her ache with longing, with want.

The way he held her wrist was so _gentle_ that she couldn’t help but wonder when the last time someone held her like that was. Had it been months? Years?

She watched his lips curly into a lazy, boyish smile.

“My sister’s dog. She had wanted one for years, and I saved up enough money to buy one for her for Christmas. It was this tiny, feisty dog that bit me the first time I picked it up. Octavia saw the stitches on my lip, and demanded to know what had happened. I had to tell her about the dog. It ruined the surprise, but the look on her face when she saw the dog…” he looked down, brushing his thumb across her wrist mindlessly. “It was worth the scar.”

She studied him, biting her lip. Raising her hand, her fingertips landed softly on the yellowed bruises beneath his eyes. His eyes closed, and he leaned into her touch.

“And these?” she breathed. “How did you get these?”

The smile fell from his face, his features hardening again. It almost made her regret asking. Almost.

The world held its breath, waiting for his answer.

When he spoke, his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard. It was filled with pain and sorrow and a defeat than ran so deep it rang a chill through her bones.

“My sister,” he said, hoarse, the words wobbling in his throat.

“I _love_ newlyweds!” Maya’s father interrupted, causing the two of them to jump apart abruptly. “My wife used to say that you could just _feel_ the love between newlyweds.”

Bellamy cleared his throat, refusing to meet her eye. She swallowed, her heart pounding with the echo of his confession. Her fingertips burned still with the feeling of his warm bruises.

“Let me guess,” Maya’s father said, glancing between them, “you two came down here looking for dinner?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, i thought it was appropriate to have maya and her father own the bed and breakfast and take them in. I know Maya's father might be OOC but just bear with me. 
> 
> Thanks to those who have commented/faved/followed this story. You're the best. Thanks for loving Bellamy x Raven as much as I do. I love seeing other people who love their dynamic too. 
> 
> also...this fic is growing and growing and i can't stop so it may be longer than expected. hopefully that's not an issue lmao. school's starting soon so updates may be even more irregular than usual but i promise i'll finish this story if there are still people willing to read it :D to all of u starting school soon: good luck, don't worry, believe good things are coming! 
> 
> as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts!!!! comments are everything to me!!!


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